


Angel of Small Death

by snickerdroodle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Osamu and suna are so bad but so good, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, not beta read we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29658159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snickerdroodle/pseuds/snickerdroodle
Summary: Osamu had a tendency to ruin things. He was the patron saint of making bad situations worse. It was like the more he cared about someone the worse they got. Osamu sucked the life out of the people around him.Maybe Suna would be different. But if he wasn’t, Osamu could live with that.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	1. Everyone’s Trying to Quit

“Spare me the melodramatics, Oikawa. Especially if you don’t plan to do anything about it.” Osamu took another bite out of his twizzler, gaze still locked somewhere past Oikawa’s head. He turns to look at Oikawa, not caring that his boredom was evident on his face. “What’s the point in complaining?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes and stabbed his fork into his salad, the wind making his hair sweep over his eyes. “I’m talking to everyone else at the table. You’re the last person alive I want relationship advice from.” 

Osamu turned his attention back to Oikawa fully, frowning. “What makes you say that.”

Osamu heard a sharp intake of breath next him, and turned to see Akaashi looking at him with a knowing stare. 

Osamu took another bite out of his twizzler, amused. 

“You know what we mean, ‘Samu.” Atsumu sighed. His head was resting on Oikawa’s shoulder, and his gaze was fixed on a piece of chicken from Oikawa’s salad. 

Osamu sat up straighter and furrowed his eyebrows. He knew exactly what they meant, but he sort of wanted to hear what they had to say about it. 

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Osamu looked around the table to his friends, who were already exchanging glances between each other. 

Their thoughts were written on their faces. They almost always were. Osamu almost felt bad sometimes, for everything he put them through. But what did they expect when they were friends with someone like him? 

Oikawa scoffed, seemingly fed up. “Dude, you know what the fuck we mean.” He points an accusatory fork at Osamu, ranch dripping off the end. Atsumu watches the ranch drip from the end of the fork in dismay. “You date fucking assholes! Losers. Bums. Going absolutely nowhere. Dudes who are total trouble. You date guys who literally don’t care if you’re dead or alive.” 

Osamu thought for a moment. “Have I ever even dated anyone before?” He asked. “I mean could you even call it that?” 

“What's with that, anyways?” Atsumu asked, picking the piece of chicken he had been eyeing out of the salad, and stuffed it in his mouth before Oikawa could do anything about it.

“Maybe Osamu has commitment issues, I mean, that’s normal at his age.” Akaashi offered.

Osamu gave akaashi an incredulous look. “We’re the same age.”

“It doesn’t feel like that most of the time.” Akaashi quipped, without missing a beat. “Most of us are over our bad boy phase.” His lip turned up in a slight smile. “Most of us.”

“I’ve been with so many guys, so many heart breakers and yet, despite it all,” Osamu took another bite out of his twizzler. “My heart remains intact. Funny how that works.”

“Is that supposed to convince us you’re emotionally mature enough for a long-lasting relationship?” Atsumu asked, raising an eyebrow.

Atsumu’s judgment was always much more effective than anyone else's. He had watched Osamu deteriorate in real time, and had seen exactly how bad Osamu could get. All Osamu ever wanted sometimes was for Atsumu not to hesitate before introducing Osamu to people. Eyeing Osamu any time he was offered a drink at a party, or a cigarette outside. He wished Atsumu hadn’t waited four months into his first serious relationship to tell his boyfriend that he had a brother. 

Not that Osamu was much of a brother at that time anyways. 

Osamu in the present just shrugged. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now though.”

“Because emotionally you’re still 17.” 

“I was 17 only 3 years ago.”

Oikawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “You haven’t changed at all in 3 years?” 

“If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, as they say.” Osamu muttered, his eyes drawn away from his judgmental friends.

There was a group of boys around their age walking up to the food truck, and Osamu felt himself get tunnel vision in real time. 

Out of the group of five boys, there was one lingering in the middle. The one that all the others seemed to turn to, giving him glances when they would tell a joke, seeing if he would laugh. 

He hardly even broke a smile. 

Just Osamu’s type. 

While his friends ordered, he turned, his eyes landing on Osamu as if that was his intention the whole time. The boy took a drag from his cigarette, the rings on his fingers catching some of the sunlight. 

The twizzler was still in Osamu’s mouth, heavy on his tongue as he stared. 

The boy turned away when it was his turn to order, cigarette getting stomped out under his boot.

Osamu’s throat felt a little tight. He needed a cigarette. 

“Don’t even think about it, Osamu.” Oikawa snapped. 

“I wasn’t thinking about anything.” Osamu waved his hand in dismissal. “But I could use a cigarette.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “You have the e-cig.”

“Ah,” Osamu nodded, eyes still focused on the back of the boys’ head, “It’s not the same as a cigarette.” 

“Yeah, it’s worse.” Atsumu supplied. 

Osamu pulled his eyes away from the boy and looked down at his phone, checking the time. “Shit. I gotta get to work. I’ll catch you guys later.” 

Osamu got up from the table, grabbing the opened pack of twizzlers and sparing the boy one last glance before leaving. 

\---------- 

Osamu punched in his card to the restaurant two minutes before he was set to clock in, another twizzler between his lips as he tied his apron. 

Osamu really loved working in the hole-in-the-wall ramen shop. The smell of pork fat and sweet broth never failed to make Osamu’s mouth water. The sound of the veggies being chopped and the cooks yelling out orders was welcomed white noise that filled Osamu’s head with dish numbers instead of the usual thoughts. 

“Osamu.” 

Osamu jolted, turning around to face his manager, who was leaning against the stove. “Kita-san. Hey.” Osamu didn’t know why he sounded so guilty when he hadn’t done anything wrong. “I wasn’t late.”

“Did I say you were late?” Kita offered a wry smile. 

Kita was terrifying. Every glance sent a shiver down Osamu’s spine. And it’s not as if Kita had given him any actual reason to be so scared of him all the time. But there was something about the manager's presence that always made Osamu feel as though he was one mistake from being thrown out on his ass.

Kita wasn’t one to mince words either. Preserving the pride of the other employees was very low on his list of priorities. It was part of what made him so effective. 

But not so deep down, Osamu knew Kita cared about him a lot. That he was so critical out of love. For some reason not a lot of people who worked at the shop didn’t understand that. 

“Right. So what can I do for you?” Osamu asked.

Kita took a few steps towards Osamu, resting one of his hands on Osamu’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “I have a favor.”

“Alright?” Osamu took another bite out of the twizzler. 

“I need you to train someone for me.” Kita sighed when he saw the look on Osamu’s face. “I know it’s lunch rush soon, but I’m really busy, and you know this place like the back of your hand. Plus you’re a people person.” 

Osamu laughed at that last part, Kita was trying to butter him up. “I am?”

“Yes, people tend to take a liking to you very easily.” Kita’s hand slipped from Osamu’s shoulder. “For better or for worse.” 

“You’re slut shaming me too, Kita?” 

Kita’s stare cut Osamu off from saying any more. 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m going to be in the office. He’ll be here by 2:00. Actually train him, please.” Kita turned around promptly and walked towards his office in the back. 

Osamu took another bite out of his twizzler and sat on a stool in the kitchen with his arms crossed, waiting for the new employee to walk in. 

Osamu ran out of twizzlers at 1:48pm. The second the bag was empty, Osamu started chewing on his bottom lip. The same familiar feeling curling in his stomach that he had at the food truck returned, and Osamu felt himself craving a cigarette. A real cigarette. 

At 1:55pm the hustle and bustle of the kitchen started to become more overwhelming than comforting. Osamu stood up and walked out of the back exit that led to an alleyway.

It smelled sort of like hot steam and rotten leftovers, but Osamu didn’t give it too much thought as he fumbled with the e-cig in his pockets. 

“You want a _real_ cigarette?” The voice comes from Osamu’s left, and it’s the boy from the food truck. He had the same uninterested look on his face, and was holding up a cigarette towards Osamu with his left hand, the right holding another cigarette to his lips. 

Osamu looked between the bleached white stick and the black pen in his hands, and attempted to weigh his options. 

“I’m uh, I’m trying to quit.” Osamu replied. 

The boy moved the cigarette closer to osamu and shrugged. “Everyone’s trying to quit.” 

_Everyone’s trying to quit._ Osamu wanted to argue with that. He wanted to say that he really was trying to quit, that he hadn’t smoked a cigarette in two months. He felt like maybe he had something to prove. That he was different. That he actually had the will to change, that he had the will to deny what must have been the 100th offer for a cigarette since he quit.

_Yeah but I’m actually going to quit._

Osamu sighed, taking the cigarette out of the boy's hand and putting it up to his lips, silently asking for a light. The boy pulled out a silver lighter and brought the flame up to the end of Osamu’s cigarette. Osamu took his first inhale of a cigarette in two months. 

It tasted worse than he remembered, and smelled harsher than he remembered. But the headrush felt better too. So much better. The feeling was curling in Osamu’s stomach and closing up his throat seemed to ebb away. Osamu suddenly couldn’t remember why he had tried to quit in the first place. 

“I’ve been craving one all day.” Osamu confessed. 

Upon closer inspection, Osamu notices the rings from before no longer on the boy's fingers. His leather jacket was replaced with a hoodie, and his jeans no longer had holes in them. He looked cleaned up. Neater. 

Osamu found himself being a bit disappointed. He liked it when boys were messy. 

“I saw you at the food truck by campus.” Osamu said, taking another drag. 

The boy tilted his head to the side slightly. “Yeah, I saw you there too.”

“So what are you doing here?” Osamu asked. 

The boy checked his watch, cursing under his breath. “First day of work, and I’m already late.” He fiddled with the lighter in his hand. “Got a job at the ramen place.” 

Osamu took a deep drag and turned around to look at the back entrance of the shop. “You’re the new guy? I’m supposed to be training you.”

“We meet again.” 

Osamu looked back at the boy, who was looking at Osamu with an expression Osamu couldn’t quite place. “So fate would have it.” Osamu muttered. 

“Well I’m Suna.” The boy supplied, dropping his cigarette into the asphalt and putting it out with the toe of his boot. 

“I’m Osamu.” 

“Well, Osamu,” Suna leaned against the brick of the building, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I hope you’ll take good care of me.” 

Osamu finished off his cigarette and gave Suna one last look before prying the door to the restaurant back open. “I’ve heard that people have a tendency to take a liking to me quickly, so hopefully you can join that club.” 

Suna leaned forward slightly, and even though his expression was as apathetic as always, Osamu could see the teasing glint in his eye. “A club? Do we get cool t-shirts?” 

Osamu pretended to think for a moment. “If I take a liking to you, you might get something better than a cheesy t-shirt.”

Osamu walked back into the restaurant, Suna trailing him. “I really like cheesy t-shirts, so that might be a bit difficult to top.” 

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” Osamu said, walking back into the locker room and checking to make sure Suna hadn’t somehow gotten lost. 

“I trust you on that.” 

\--------- 

  
Going home to his shared apartment with Atsumu after work smelling like cigarette smoke made Osamu feel like a teenager trying to sneak back in after a night of partying, obviously drunk. It wasn’t like Atsumu going to get mad at him either. It was just a cigarette. If Osamu was smoking a cigarette instead of doing god knows what else, Atsumu would be the last to complain. 

Osamu was quitting for Atsumu, he had told Atsumu two months ago. And instead of being happy for him, or being proud, Atsumu had just furrowed his eyebrows. “Well if you stop with cigarettes will you do other things instead?” 

Osamu had shaken his head, clutching the mug of hot chocolate he had made both of them. “No, nothing like that.” Osamu looked down at his lap. “I know how much Sakusa hates coming over, you know? Because it always sort of smells here. That’s not fair to you.” 

“I don’t mind.” Atsumu had a gentle smile on his face. “If it’s keeping you off of-”

“It’s not.” Osamu snapped. “It’s not keeping me off of anything.” 

“Alright.” Cautious. 

“I’m keeping myself off of everything.” Osamu sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. 

Atsumu had flushed, looking sheepish. “I know. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” 

But then Atsumu grinned, saying that he was happy Osamu was doing something like this out of his own volition. And when Osamu had accepted the cigarette from Suna, he had forgotten why he was quitting in the first place. 

He had forgotten. 

Osamu clutched the corner store bag to his chest as he stood in front of the door to the apartment. The nicotine patches in the bag were proof of his failure. 

He turned back around and pulled out his phone. He had exchanged numbers with Suna shortly before Osamu had to leave. Suna had leaned on the counter, his chin resting on his hand as he appraised Osamu. 

“Don’t call me too much, Osamu.” He had teased. 

“This exchange of numbers was strictly professional, Suna.” Osamu spoke through a grin, and he was sure that Suna took that to mean the opposite. 

“Of course. Professionally.”

The entire time Osamu had been trying to train him, it seemed like Suna was much more focused on trying to fluster Osamu. Osamu didn’t mind though, and he wasn’t flustered very easily. He laughed off most of Suna’s offhanded flirtatious comments, which toed the line between good-natured flirting and possible sexual harassment. 

Osamu wasn’t sure. He had never read the handbook Kita gave him when he first started working there. 

Osamu looked at Suna’s contact in his phone and chewed on his lip. Suna wasn’t any different than the dozens of other guys Osamu had messed around with. There was no point in treating him like he was. 

**Osamu:** hey, I know you just got off but are you free? 

**Suna:** This is professional right? 

**Osamu:** 100% 

**Suna:** Yeah I’m free   
**Suna:** You smoke weed?

Osamu pulled his bottom lip further into his mouth, thinking. 

**Osamu:** yeah, i do  
**Osamu:** wya?


	2. First High

Osamu was sitting in Suna’s car, parked in the middle of nowhere. But that was alright, because Osamu had been in sketchier conversations and come out alive. 

“If you killed me and threw my body off the edge of the cliff I think it would take a really long time for someone to find me.” Osamu said, packing the smoking pipe. “You know, just in case.” 

Suna looked up, face still stoic. “You’re the one who invited me out.”

“Ah, I did, didn’t I?” Osamu muttered. He was using Suna’s lighter to light the corner of the bowl and inhaling. The warmth in Osamu’s chest was instantaneous as he exhaled, passing the glass smoking pipe to Suna. 

“Alright. This is the part where you tell me about yourself.” 

“What do you wanna know?” Osamu looked out the windshield at the sun starting to set. “There’s not much to know.” 

Suna took a deep hit, holding the smoke in as he spoke. “Anything you’re willing to share.” 

Osamu had a rehearsed answer when he was asked questions like this. “I have a twin brother, Atsumu. Identical. My parents are really nice. I played volleyball in high school but I quit. I’m in culinary school right now. I have a tattoo on my right hip. I wanna own a restaurant one day.” 

Suna exhaled, and Osamu took the smoking pipe out of Suna’s hand. The weed must have been really strong, because Osamu was already starting to feel lightheaded and relaxed. 

Suna leaned against the steering wheel, looking at Osamu. “You and your brother get along?” 

“As much as normal siblings do.” Osamu lit the corner again and took a deep breath. “He’s really pushy sometimes, but you know, he just cares a lot.” 

“I understand that, I have a sister.” 

“Younger or older?’

“Younger.” 

“You guys get along?” 

Something close to fondness passed over Suna’s features. “Yeah, we get along really well. She’s great.” 

“Swell.” 

The car ended up being accidentally hotboxed, and the two of them took turns trying to suck the smoke from the roof of the car. 

“Wait, wait Suna watch this.” Osamu said, leaning up, his hands slipping off of the middle console and onto Suna’s thigh, inhaling from a spot just in front of Suna’s face. Osamu looked back at Suna, their noses almost touching. “Did you see that?”

“I did see that.” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Osamu-”

“Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?” 

Suna tilted his head to the side and shrugged. “You could.” 

Osamu giggled and leaned the rest of the forward, connecting their lips. Suna shifted in his seat, and Osamu climbed over the console, sitting sideways on Suna’s lap. With a hand still on Suna’s thigh, Osamu used his other to cup Suna’s face. 

Osamu was rushing the kiss, like he had somewhere to be in five minutes. He should slow down. But Osamu was an eager person, he didn’t like to savor things. He wanted instant gratification. He wanted whatever would make him feel good now. Whatever happened after, he would just deal with when it was time. 

And right now, what made him feel good, was Suna. Suna made him feel _so_ good. 

Everywhere Suna touched felt hot, and the smoke that filled the car mixing with their kisses made heat curl in Osamu’s chest. Osamu leaned back, hitting the horn of the car and jolting forward, back into Suna’s chest. Osamu pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m hungry.” Osamu sighed. 

Suna rolled down the windows, the cold night hair entering the car and sweeping Osamu’s hair around. “You wanna go to a 7/11?” 

“Alright.” Osamu made no move to get up from Suna’s lap. “I’m fucking starving.” 

“Then get off my lap.” 

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“How am I supposed to-” Suna cut himself off and sighed. “You need to get off my lap so we can both get out of the car.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Osamu muttered as he crawled back into his seat, not missing how Suna’s hand lingered on the strip of skin that was exposed when Osamu leaned forward. 

That spot on his hip felt hot. 

“Suna I’m fucking starving. Where’s the 7/11? I want ramen.” 

Suna got out of the car and walked over to Osamu’s door, pulling it open and helping Osamu out. “You always this needy when you’re high?”

“No, I'm just really hungry. I mean I’m always hungry. I’m never not hungry.” Osamu rambled and he followed Suna down the sidewalk. “I get really bad munchies when I’m high. I could eat an extra large pizza and still have room for more.” 

“You talk a lot too.” Suna pointed out. 

“I can stop talking if you want.” 

“I wasn’t complaining. The opposite.” Suna turned around to look at Osamu. “Did it come off like I was complaining?” 

Osamu shrugged. “A little.” 

“You can keep talking.” Suna said, slowing his stride so Osamu could catch up. “Can I ask you something?”

“You already asked me things.” 

“Can I ask you more things?” 

“If you buy me fried karaage, sure.” Osamu hummed. 

Suna pushed open the door to the 7/11 and made a beeline for the candy, squatting down. Osamu went to the front and asked for the fried karaage. He ended up paying right then and walked back to Suna, taking a bite without blowing it off first and moving the chicken around his mouth while he made a ‘ha ha ha’ sound. 

Suna looked up, hands filled with sweets. “You paid already?” 

“I was hungry.” Osamu explained, squatting down next to suna. “Also unrelated, I think I have an oral fixation.”

“Come again?” Suna laughed. Like _actually_ laughed. It wasn’t a huge laugh either, and it didn’t last very long, but the sides of his eyes crinkled up, and his tongue poked out between his teeth. It didn’t match how he looked at all. 

Osamu wanted to make him laugh all the time.

All the fucking time. 

“I mean like, maybe that’s why I like food and cigarettes so much.” Osamu could hardly take himself seriously as he spoke. “I just always need something in- stop laughing. I'm being serious.” 

Suna pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and furrowed his eyebrows in an attempt to keep a smile at bay. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you 12?” 

Suna shook his head. 

“You’re thinking about weird sex stuff but I’m not like that. I just meant like gum, twizzlers and cigarettes.” Osamu took another bite out of his fried karaage, and it wasn’t as unbearably hot this time. 

“When someone mentions an oral fixation, you’re going to think about sex.” Suna defended himself as he stood up and walked towards the cash register. 

“I think you’re just a pervert.” Osamu teased. 

“That’s a fair assessment I suppose.” Suna admitted, dropping his armful of candy on the counter. 

Osamu looked at the two of them through the security camera and fumbled with his phone for a few seconds before pulling up the instagram camera and pointing it at the screen hanging above the counter. He tapped Suna, who looked up first at Osamu, then at the screen. 

“Do I have to smile?” Suna asked. 

“No.” Osamu said, snapping a picture and debating if he should post it on his story. His thumb hovered over the post button briefly before he pressed it and shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Suna paid and the two of them were back on the street. Osamu sat on the curb in front of the convenience store, Suna joining him not too long later. There are a few minutes of comfortable silence as they eat before Osamu speaks again. 

“What did you wanna ask me about before?” Osamu asked, mouth full of chicken. 

Suna tore off a piece of his pancake and looked straight forward. “Why did you want to hang out?” 

“Because I like you.” Osamu spoke honestly, and if it took Suna by surprise, he didn’t show it. 

“That was fast.” 

Osamu tilted his head to the side slightly. “I like you in the only way you can like someone after knowing them for 8 hours.” 

“Ah. Figured.” 

“Was that not the answer you were hoping for?” 

Suna turned his head towards Osamu, a slight tug on the right side of his mouth. “It was the exact answer i was hoping for, actually.” 

“I’m glad.” Osamu’s voice was lowering to a whisper. 

“So now what do you want to do?” 

“How about you show me your tattoo.” Suna muttered, his lips grazing against Osamu’s. “And I’ll show you mine.” 

—————- 

Suna’s tattoo was on his thigh. It was a panel from some horror manga, is what he had told Osamu while Osamu had been tracing it with his thumb. Suna looked down at Osamu, whose face was pressed against Suna’s thigh.

“It’s not that cool of a tattoo.” 

Osamu sat up on his knees and leaned forward, the neck Suna’s shirt exposing his collarbones. “It’s not just the tattoo I like, I like the thigh it’s inked onto.”

“And the owner of the thigh?” Suna asked. “What about him?” 

Osamu sat on Suna’s lap, straddling his thighs. “He’s alright.”

“Just alright?”

Osamu stretched, lifting his hands above his head and giving Suna a sleepy stare. “You’ll have prove me wrong then won’t you?” 

Osamu’s phone rang on the nightstand as Suna’s flipped them over, Osamu’s back hitting the bed. The buzzing on the wood drowned out by the words Suna was muttering into his neck. 

———— 

“He’s dead”

“He’s not dead.” Sakusa reassured. “He probably just went out and forgot to tell you.”

Atsumu whipped around to look at his boyfriend, the stress clear in his voice. “He never does that though. He doesn’t forget to call me. He knows that ever since-” Atsumu cut himself off and started pacing the living room of his apartment.

“what do you think he’s doing.”

“I don’t think he’s doing anything. I think he’s fucking dead.” 

Sakusa took hold of Atsumu’s arm as he walked past the couch again, stopping him in his tracks. “You need to sleep.”

“How can I sleep when I don’t know if he’s okay.” Atsumu felt his bottom lip start to shake, and anxiety started clawing at his chest. 

“You need to trust him.” Sakusa pulled Atsumu into an embrace, which only made Atsumu feel marginally better. 

“I can’t.” Atsumu whispered into Sakusa’s chest. “I can’t trust him.”

“I know.”

“He’s a grown adult. I shouldn’t have to worry all the time about a grown adult but all I do is worry.” 

Sakusa nodded in understanding.

“I can’t trust him to make good choices. I can’t trust him to not drink at parties. I can’t trust him to take his meds the way he’s supposed to. I can’t trust him to stay out late without thinking he’s in some alleyway high off his mind wondering where _I_ am.” Atsumu pulled away from Sakusa and started pacing again. 

“He’s been really good recently though hasn’t he?” Atsumu knew Sakusa was just trying to be helpful, but it was more frustrating than anything. 

“The longer he’s sober the more likely it is he’s gonna slip again. God. I’m gonna have to drug test him if he comes back.”

“When he comes back.” 

Atsumu started biting his fingernails, he couldn’t stand still. “If he’s going on a bender right now I won’t see him for days.” 

“He always comes back doesn’t he?” 

“Until one day he doesn’t.” Atsumu chokes out. “Until one day It’s a cop knocking on the door.” 

“Worrying isn’t going to change what he’s doing.” 

“You don’t- you don’t understand.” Atsumu felt tears in the corners of his eyes. “He does this and my heart fucking stops. Everything stops. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything except sit here and worry.” 

Sakusa sighed, and Atsumu felt bad. He was such a basket case. 

“If something were to happen to him I don’t think I’d- I don’t think I’d survive it. I think it would kill me, Omi.” 

“I know, Atsumu.”

Atsumu pulled on his fingers as he continued walking in circles. “I didn’t tell you this before….but the other day he was going through my room.”

“Oh?”

Atsumu had started locking up the medicine cabinet after Osamu came back. It had been the cause of a lot of fights in the beginning, but they fought about everything back then.

Osamu had screamed every horrible word he knew at Atsumu. Said he hated him. Said he wished Atsumu was dead. Said he wished _he_ was dead. 

He would put his hands on Atsumu and cry sometimes. Saying he just wanted an ibuprofen for his headache. Crying that he was so sorry. He was an awful brother. Atsumu deserved better. 

“I’m just doing what’s best for you, you know that?” Atsumu had said. Osamu was sitting in front of the bathroom door, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

He was angry.

“Osamu the doctors said that I should-”

“I fucking hate you.” Osamu spat out. “You treat me like a pathetic baby. You’ve just always wanted to feel better than me. Your whole sad and pathetic life. And I bet a part of you, likes seeing me like this, doesn’t it.”

Atsumu knew Osamu would cry about these words later. He’d lock himself in his room and cry himself to sleep over saying that to Atsumu. 

“Just give me the key.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“If I want drugs you can’t stop me.” 

“I know.”

“If I wanted your stupid anxiety meds I’d just go buy them. You can’t stop me from using.”

“I know.”

“Please unlock the cabinet.”

“It’s for your own good.”

Osamu stood up then, his glare full of malice as he stared Atsumu down. “Whatever.” 

The first month after Osamu came back was horrible, but Atsumu had to be strong enough for the both of them. 

Atsumu had thought they put the medicine cabinet behind them until he caught Osamu looking around in his room. 

“What are you doing?” Atsumu asked.

Osamu had stood up slowly, calm. “Looking for my shirt you stole.” 

“In my bedside drawer?”

Osamu looked at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s….I know. It’s fine.” 

Now Atsumu wished he had pressed it more. It was 4am and He still hadn’t heard from Osamu. 

“God I just hope he’s not dead.” Atsumu muttered. 

\---------------

It was 4am and all Osamu could think about while he stared at the ceiling was that maybe he ought to start using sex as his coping mechanism instead drugs. 

“Is it alright if I spend the night?” Osamu asked. 

Suna looked at him like he was stupid. Which wasn’t very different from his normal expression, if Osamu had really thought about it. “It’s 4am I’m not driving you back home.” Suna lit his blunt and took a deep breath. “You keep like that you can stay as long as you want.”

Osamu rolled over on his stomach and propped his head up on his elbows, running his finger along the lines of Suna’s face. “Like a live-in prostitute.”

“I wouldn’t be paying you.” 

Osamu stopped the movement of his finger as he looked at Suna. “Like a boyfriend?”

Suna just brought up the blunt to Osamu’s lips and smiled a bit. “More like a live-in prostitute.” 

That made Osamu laugh and cough up smoke, pressing his forehead against Suna’s chest. “I’m hungry.” 

“All you ever are is hungry.” 

Osamu sat up, running a hand through his hair. “You mind if I make something in your kitchen?” 

Suna raised an eyebrow. “Naked?”

“Go die.”

“It was just a question,” Suna said defensively, his arms in the air. “But yeah, make whatever you want.” 

Osamu crawled out of the bed, picking up one of Suna’s sweatshirts and pulling it on. “You have sweatpants I can borrow?”

Suna sucked his teeth in faux disappointment. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I do.” 

“You’re a pervert.” 

Suna had a dangerous grin on his face. “Osamu.” 

Osamu was already walking out of the room quickly, attempting to suppress a laugh. “I was joking, I didn’t mean it.” 

Suna was following behind, blunt still hanging loosely from his lips. “ _I’m_ the pervert?” Suna’s hair was a muffled mess and his eyes still looked sleepy as he walked over to the kitchen and sat on a bar stool. “I welcome you into my home, give you the clothes off my back...and you call me a pervert?” 

“What are you trying to imply?”

“You know, I think you _do_ have an oral fixation.” Suna couldn’t get through the sentence without laughing.

“It’s not- that’s not funny.” 

“It’s a little funny.” 

“Shut up.” Osamu spoke through a grin, turning around and looking around the cabinets to hide his laughter. “Where’s your frying pan?” 

“Top cabinet.” Suna saw Osamu’s expression and snorted. “That’s not on purpose I just always eat take out and have no use for a frying pan.” 

“You don’t make scrambled eggs you don’t….how does a person have no use for a frying pan?” 

“Dunno, I have an air fryer.” 

Osamu looked around Suna’s cabinets and pouted. He really must just eat take out all the time. “You have like no food.”

“I think I have pringles in there somewhere.” 

“You invite me into your home and offer me chips?” Osamu gasped. “I’ll make something out of this. I’ll figure something out.” Osamu muttered the second half under his breath after finding packs on instant ramen in the back of the top cabinet. 

“We could order thai.” 

“It’s 4am.” 

“24 hour delivery.” 

Osamu stood up straight. “So you watched me rummage around your barren kitchen while knowing there was a 24 hour thai place.” 

“I just remembered.” Suna said, offering his blunt to Osamu, who snatched it out of Suna's hand with an exaggerated annoyance. 

They ended up eating the thai food in Suna’s kitchen, Osamu sitting on the counter while Suna sat at the breakfast stool next to him, his finger tracing messy ink on Osamu’s hip bone. 

Osamu took a bite out of his food and looked down at Suna, frowning. “Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something.” 

“Probably wasn’t important anyway.” Suna mumbled. 

“Yeah..probably.”


End file.
